One of the reasons that aging is difficult for many retirees is that our culture undervalues its elders. The media and advertising hold up images of youth as the ideal; the idea of reverence for seniors is rarely celebrated.
This seems to be a western belief. With the exception in America of African-Americans and Native Americans, most cultures that honor their aging are Eastern, as an article from The Huffington Post makes clear. Consider this observation from Adriana Huffington:
“Ten years ago, I visited the monastery of Tharri on the island of Rhodes with my children. There, as in all of Greece, abbots are addressed by everyone as ‘Geronda,’ which means ‘old man.’ Abbesses are called ‘Gerondissa.’ Not exactly terms of endearment in my adopted home [America]. The idea of honoring old age, indeed identifying it with wisdom and closeness to God, is in startling contrast to the way we treat aging in America.”
But in America, cosmetic companies profit from older people trying to recapture youthful skin and the idols of Hollywood have a shelf life – once they cross the age line, they must often settle for character roles, rather than appearing as leading ladies and men. Even in politics, voters prefer youth over wisdom. One of “the reasons that Barack Obama was successful was because he was much more energetic and youthful than John McCain, his opponent. Now, ironically, the Democratic party struggles to appear in touch since its party leaders are aging.
And yet, older westerners, from Benjamin Franklin to Winston Churchill and Grandma Moses made significant contributions to the world. (See How Stuff Works for an article exploring the accomplishments of seniors).
If retirees buy into this societal obsession with youth, we can struggle to lead lives that are purposeful and relevant. But the greatest irony is that we, retirees, are the keepers of the wisdom that our culture needs. Relaying this knowledge may be our most important purpose.
In a recent post, I extolled the value of the technological advances that we have seen in our lifetimes. I encouraged retirees to take full advantage of the devices that can contribute to our knowledge, ease of life, and entertainment. I hold by those principles. However, I had an experience recently that raised my awareness of my value as a wisdom-keeper.
One morning, when I turned on my computer, a customary daily ritual, I discovered that it had crashed. I am happy to report that this laptop was already busily restoring itself when I logged on. I was grateful for its ability to recreate itself, as it saved me from seeking out a knowledgeable geek and spending money on the repair. It took the computer a full day to restore its factory settings, followed by 12 hours of downloading updates that had occurred since its “birthdate.” In addition, several hours were necessary to reload all the programs that had been lost, as well as my own files and documents saved on an external hard drive.
What was interesting to me was my own reaction to having my computer down. I felt bereft, incapable of connecting to the world, unable to access my files, with empty time looming and little to fill it.
On another evening, shortly after this experience, a violent thunderstorm knocked out the power in my home. My cell phone was low and I couldn’t recharge it, my computer similarly had only a short life stored. The TV was off, the clocks had stopped working, and, of course, there were no lights. What would I do with myself?
These events recalled another, more serious one. Six years ago, Hurricane Ike visited my town of Houston, Texas. In my neighborhood, as a result of the storm, the electricity was cut off for a total of 2 weeks. Some people had generators, and you could hear the buzz of those machines through windows that were open (an anomaly in a town where air-conditioning requires homes to be shut up). Neighbors broke through the barriers of their front doors and came outside. We greeted one another, sometimes for the first time. Although grocery stores were open, their stock was low – limited to non-perishable food, although much of it was unusable without functioning kitchens. The city sent trucks around and we could stand in line to receive a ration of ice.
In each of these occasions, I wondered how Americans would survive in a critical emergency.
What would we do if the supermarkets were closed? How would we cook if there was no power to our stoves and ovens and microwaves? What would we do without computers? How would we communicate if our cell phones ran down? How would we occupy our children if there were no TV and no video games?
Because we can remember a time before technology, we as retirees can answer many of those questions, and our expertise would serve as a guide.
We are guides to a time before technology, a time that even our children do not remember and that our grandchildren find unimaginable.
I have grown and preserved vegetables, baked bread, sewn clothes (with and without a sewing machine). I have cooked over a campfire, bathed in a cold creek, gathered wild raspberries and dandelion greens.
I could reintroduce children whose game aps no longer work to the joys of imagination and outside play. As a child, my friends and I produced little plays in our neighborhood and invited parents to come to the theater we created in our garage. Influenced by the “Two Gun Playhouse” we watched in the afternoons, we built a saloon in my backyard (We had to dismantle the saloon when my best friend’s parents, devout Baptists, objected). I remember digging holes, just for the joy of digging and anticipating reaching China. We talked about how we would communicate with the Chinese once we popped out from our tunnel through the earth. A world without technology can still be a world of joy for children.
This is just one area of the important knowledge that we have gained from a lifetime of experiences. I am beginning a list of life lessons that I want to pass on, and I encourage you to do the same. My list includes the lessons of connecting with my spirituality, avoiding false pride, leading a less materialistic life. It includes the value of friendship, avoidance of self-defeating practices, the value and blessing of life in this country. Others come to mind as I write: being open to new experiences and an identity as a life-long learner, placing service to others ahead of juggling to be first in line.
This will be my legacy and my purpose, to pass on to my children and grandchildren the cumulative wisdom that I have accrued over a lifetime.
5/1/2015